


A Better Kind of Hell

by kimmyjarl



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Humor, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-11
Updated: 2011-06-11
Packaged: 2017-10-20 08:16:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimmyjarl/pseuds/kimmyjarl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-NFA. Spike and Angel and a candy. In hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Better Kind of Hell

The boat was small and there was no sky.

They were inside an enormous cave, on a river so big and silent, Spike had never seen anything like it.

Maybe he raised his own voice just to break that silence. Maybe shouting at Angel had become something of a habit.

Or maybe he had good reasons to be shouting.

“I told you,” Angel said. A stone that finally spoke. “We were probably going to die.”

“That’s not the point.”

Angel glanced at him from a shadowed brow.

“What’s the point then?

“The point is… the point is…” What was the point? Oh, yeah. Spike glared at Angel. “The point is – it’s all your fault!”

Angel flinched.

Spike lowered his eyes.

Damn.

Shouting at Angel was no good if he flinched.

“What kind of hell is this anyway?” Spike muttered. He glanced up. “Was it like this the last time you went?”

Angel looked around, slowly. Taking in the black water, the boat, the cave.

That one skeleton steering the boat.

“No,” Angel said. “It wasn’t like this.”

“More fires, right?”

“Right.”

Angel kind of smiled, a small tug. Spike got that sometimes. He wasn’t sure if Angel knew.

“You reckon the fires are waiting on the other side?” Spike squinted. He could just make out the shore, grey and dim in the distance. He frowned. “Maybe it’s the river Styx. Or maybe…” He looked at Angel, alarmed. “Maybe it’s that river that makes you forget stuff. What’s it called? What’s it called?” He snapped his fingers.

“Lethe.”

“Right, Lethe.” He gasped. “See, it’s starting already! I’ll forget my own name next.” Pause. “Checking, checking. My name is Spike. Checking, checking.”

Definitely a smile this time.

“Come on,” Spike said, standing up. ”Let’s turn this boat around. We’re heroes, right? Not lambs to the slaughter.”

Angel looked mildly interested, which was all the encouragement Spike needed. He stalked the short distance to the end of the boat. Stared the skeleton straight into its empty sockets.

“Turn around,” Spike said. He made a small circle in the air with his forefinger. “We’re going back.”

The skeleton just continued to push the boat forward, with that long pole it held in its bony hands. Possibly it was pushing a bit faster.

“Hey, I said…” Spike reached out – bloody heap of bones – and his hand went right through. The skeleton looked solid, but it was no more solid than a whisp of mist. Spike tried to grab the pole, but he couldn’t touch that either.

Brilliant.

He moved his weight from side to side and the boat lurched sharply, but didn’t slow down and didn’t turn around.

“Stop that.”

It was no use, so he might as well stop. Not because Angel told him.

Spike sat down again, on the bottom of the boat. The boards were cold and hard against his back.

Had the shore come a tiny bit closer?

 _My name is Spike, checking, checking._

“Aren’t you the least bit worried?” Spike said. “We lose our memories and we’re gone. Wandering around the land of the dead, not knowing who we are. Those empty spirits Dru used to complain about, come Halloween. That will be us!”

Angel just sat there, arms crossed. Big block of stone.

“There are worse kind of hells,” he said.

“You’re glad.” Spike pointed at Angel. “You are!” Discovery in his voice. “You’re glad we’re going to forget.”

“We’re not going to forget, Spike.” Loud and aggravated.

“You don’t know that.”

Spike looked towards the shore, almost sure he could see the grey people, dressed in rags, not looking at each other. Just standing around or walking aimlessly. Forever.

“We could swim back.”

Spike got to his feet. The boat rocked.

Angel didn’t move.

“Come on,” Spike said. “Fancy a dip then?”

The water was ink black, silent and still. There was something repulsive about that stillness. He supposed he couldn’t blame Angel for not jumping right in.

“Here goes…” Hand on the railing, Spike swung himself over the side of the boat.

There was hardly a splash when he hit the water. And cold – numbing – surrounding him. Spike felt the surface closing over his head. A silence. Very, very silent. He was… what was he doing?

He was grabbed, a hand on his collar and a strong arm pulling his head above the water.

“Get back in the boat.”

Someone lifted him like he didn’t weight anything and he was sitting, water dripping from his hair and his chin. Someone leaning over him. Some…

“Angel!”

“Don’t go running off.” Angel sat back down and crossed his arms. It was like he hadn’t moved at all.

Spike shivered, and it wasn’t from the cold.

And then, as if he needed any more proof that there was something funky going on with the water, he wasn’t wet anymore. He reached into his pocket – dry – and pulled out a package of cigarettes – also dry. Though when he searched for the lighter, he couldn’t find it. Probably dropped it in the water.

Damn.

And damn.

”Don’t happen to have a lighter, do you?”

“No.”

Angel still uncrossed his arms and shoved his hands into the spacious pockets in his coat, sighing all the while. When he pulled them out, his right hand was closed around something that wasn’t a lighter. He turned his hand over and opened it, revealing – a candy. A red, hard candy in a clear plastic wrapper.

“Didn’t know you walked around with candy in your pockets!”

Angel didn’t react, he just stared down at the candy with a small frown on his face.

“Kind of an odd thing to be carrying into the final battle. Not that I’m judging, mind you. There was this one time-”

“No,” Angel said. “I got it from…” His voice trailed off. “I was having coffee and I got it from…” He looked up, frowning and indignant. “I forgot.”

“See! Not so funny when that happens, is it?”

He wondered what Angel had forgotten. Probably nothing important.

Angel was still holding the candy, red and shining on his large palm.

“Well,” Spike said. “Are you going to eat that, or what?”

“I guess.” Angel twisted the candy between his fingers. The wrapper made a stiff candy-wrapper sound. He let the wrapper fall, and Spike watched how it got caught in a nonexistent breeze and drifted away across the water. Clear plastic disappearing into the darkness.

He felt stab of loss, as strong as it was incongruous.

Angel put the candy in his mouth and several long moments went by in silence except for the sound of Angel sucking on a candy.

“Share, why don’t you?” Spike muttered.

Angel gave him a level stare. Then he took the candy out of his mouth and holding it between his thumb and forefinger, he offered it to Spike. Smirking a bit, as if he was sure that Spike wouldn’t want it.

The candy was smooth and wet and very red – almost glowing with a light of its own. Spike leaned forward, rocking the boat and closed his lips around the candy and Angel’s fingers both. With a sound of dismay, Angel pulled his fingers back and wiped them on the front of his coat. Spike was left with the candy. It tasted of cherries and chemicals, and it was sweet enough to make the muscles of his jaw twitch.

Spike kept glancing at Angel, small tiny glances, while he turned the candy over in his mouth, making it last. He had an idea, and now that he had it, it wouldn’t let go.

“Let’s have sex.”

“What?” Angel blinked. “No!”

Angel turned his attention to the water, intent and preoccupied. His whole body indicating that the last few seconds had never happened.

The last traces of candy melted in Spike’s mouth. When Angel finally glanced at him, a flicker of dark eyes, Spike raised his eyebrows in an inviting wiggle.

“Forget it,” Angel snapped.

“You know, I probably will!”

He was unable to keep the stress out of his voice and he knew Angel could hear it. Angel always could.

Angel sighed. Frowned.

Sighed again.

“All right.”

 “All right? All right!”

They stared at each other, neither of them making a move.

“All right,” Spike said. He took a deep breath. “Let’s get this party started.”

He stood up and began to undress, starting with his boots. His coat, his trousers and shirt ended up in a dark pile next to the boots and he turned to Angel, naked.

“Well, kit off! Time’s awastin’.”

Angel was warming up to the idea, Spike could tell. He watched Angel undress. Watched Angel watching him while he undressed.

Angel placed his clothes on the bottom of the boat and pulled them smooth, a makeshift bed.

Nice.

Angel stood straight. Big and wide, skin very pale in the dark. Spike smiled. One step closer and he placed his fingertips on Angel’s chest.

“Lovely, you are,” he said.

Angel looked at him like he was saying “Are you kidding me?”, but also like he was saying “Do you really mean it?”.

Big, brooding, insecure tosser.

Spike leaned in for a kiss, awkward, not sure suddenly that this was the thing to do. Sex, that’d done it before. Once – well, maybe twice. But kissed, never. Noses almost touching, he stared at Angel and Angel stared back, dark and unreadable, and then Angel smiled. That little tug, that told Spike that he was doing something right.

Oh, good.

Kissing Angel was very strange, but they kept at it and after awhile it didn’t feel all that strange anymore.

It felt good. Like life. Like warmth.

Angel’s tongue against his, Angel’s hands on his back, his shoulders, his arse. Angel’s dick hard against his stomach. He panted into Angel’s mouth.

There was a brief struggle, down on the bottom of the boat – the negotiating of positions – before Spike found himself flat on his stomach, Angel kneeling between his legs.

Why break the habit of... once, maybe twice?

Spike looked back over his shoulder and saw Angel stroke his own erection, firm strokes up and down. Making it glisten. Spit – not the most effective of lubricants. Spike didn’t care. There was something… something so engaging about having Angel kneeling behind him like this, his cock hard and ready. It made Spike feel light-headed and dizzy. It made him tremble.

“Yeah, ” he breathed. “Yeah. That’s what I’m talking about.”

Angel lay down on top of him, covering him completely. He felt Angel’s hands on his buttocks, holding them apart. Felt Angel’s dick against his opening, thick and solid, pushing against him. Spike made himself relax. Angel was prying him open, sinking into him, so carefully, so inexorable slow. Not stopping and not easing up. It didn’t hurt though, not hardly at all.

Fully inside, Angel kissed Spike’s neck.

“Good boy,” he said, and Spike huffed his laughter into Angel’s coat.

Silly old man.

Love you.

Angel raised his hips and sank down, slow and inexorable.

“Yeah…”

Angel’s arms were around his shoulders, and their fingers twined together, clasping right beneath Spike’s mouth, and Angel’s cock glided thickly inside him, back and forth, ceaseless and slow. Spike lifted his hips to meet him, working his body within the steely confinement of Angel’s arms. Like waves, the way they rocked together.

Spike felt warm.

He panted against Angel’s knuckles, his feet straining against the clothes Angel had laid out on the deck.

My God.

And Angel kept him, that slow pace without end, until his body shuddered with sensation, jolts of electricity inside of him, and all the world was narrowed down to Angel’s cock in his arse and Angel’s breath on his cheek.

“P-please.” He might be weeping. It was wet between his mouth and their hands.

“Yeah,’ Angel breathed. He lifted up, lifted Spike with him, to his elbows and his knees.

Somehow he had not been ready, had not expected the next push. How Angel slammed into him, slammed hard and deep. A shout, short, wordless and he sank down on his hands and elbows, arching his back, offering himself.

More.

Angel.

Angel’s hands around his hips and Angel’s cock impaling him again and again. Opening him all up with strong sure blows. It was… he was drifting, inside his head, and his body was jerked back and forth. His fingers clenched, convulsive, over the fabric of Angel’s coat.

“Hah.”

Angel.

Killing him and loving him and owning him.

Angel’s hand went down to Spike’s cock – hard and leaking – closing around it. Caught, he was. A hand that squeezed and stroked in a punishing rhythm. A fire, there in his belly. Angel. Opening him all up.

“Hah.”

It was too much… too much.

He wanted…

He wanted to scream and to holler.

He…

Spike came then, couldn’t have stopped it if he’d tried. And Angel fucked him through it, fucked him as he gasped and shuddered.

As the world fell away.

Drained and distant, Spike leaned his head on his trembling arms. His eyelids were heavy, opening and closing, a muted kind of fireworks going on inside of him.

Weak, as Angel fucked him.

Slaps, flesh on flesh and the wet sounds of Angel’s dick in his arse. Spike heard the sound of water, as the boat rocked, hard and hectic. Angel was making small groans, like a man on the brink. But Angel didn’t come. And the fucking continued, the fireworks, while Spike slowly became aware of the cold dark air of the cave, the ache in his guts, the hard boards beneath his knees.

The skeleton that was watching them.

Spike flicked it off, the bony bastard, with two trembling fingers.

Small groans. Angel on the brink of coming. Spike rocked back and forth.

Maybe this was the way they would stay?

“W-wait. A-ang…”

Angel.

Spike.

Checking, checking.

He was using so much force, Angel did. The sledgehammer strength, bearing down on him. He always tried so hard, Angel. He always did the hard thing.

Spike wanted to see his face.

Twisting around, he caught Angel’s wrist.

“Wait.”

Angel’s eyes widened and he backed away, his wrist pulling away from Spike’s grip. The erection pulling out of Spike’s arse, leaving him… gaping, hungry, empty.

Angel.

Spike moved to his back – really terrible weak – and reached out his hand. Angel looked at Spike, at the hand reaching for him and seemed to hesitate. Hard to tell what Angel was thinking. Spike let the hand fall. He smiled and his eyes never left Angel’s, as he lifted his knees and slowly parted his legs.

A trembling breath, from Angel.

“Come here then, big guy.”

Angel moved over to settle on top of him, before he sank into his arms and into his body.

Something like wonder, on Angel’s face.

“Yeah,” Spike murmured. “Yeah. It’s good.”

His arms around Angel’s wide back, he held on. And Angel held him, cradled him and fucked him.

“It’s good,” Spike said, soothing his hands all over Angel’s back. “You’ve done good.”

A sob. Something like a sob.

“It’s fine.” He closed his fingers around the back of Angel’s neck. “Let go. Let it go, Angel.”

 _Thud_ , like a heartbeat, when Angel crushed him closer. Angel’s mouth on his, and Spike closed his eyes and touched Angel’s tongue with his own, brief, light touches. Slowly they kissed as his insides were flooded with Angel’s come. Spike felt it leaking out of him, as they held on harder, as the kisses became messy and insistent. Angel, kissing him with emphasis. A trail of saliva ran down Spike’s cheek.

“It’s fine,” Spike whispered.

His hand crept into Angel’s hair.

Angel’s hand on Spike’s back, rolling them to their sides. Tangled together. Spike hooked his leg around Angel’s hip, feeling Angel’s softening cock shift inside of him, wet and slippery.

Yeah.

Angel’s mouth left his and kissed his nose, briefly, before pulling back. And there they lay, facing each other.

Breathing.

Not moving.

Almost shyly.

A jolt went thought the boat and Spike heard a dull, scraping noise.

“That’s the shore,” Angel said.

And then… there was nothing.


End file.
